A Night at the Opera
by Magic Crafter
Summary: At times like these, Clarice isn't so sure she likes being a countess... Oneshot, post-Hannibal.


**Author's Note**: Hello, friends; long time, no see. I'm sorry for being so scarce, but I'm just now finishing up my last year of college (!) and my life has been pretty busy and hectic for what feels like forever. I'll be free from schoolwork soon, but I'll also be out in the "real" world looking for jobs, etc., so I don't know if I can't promise any updates, but I'll certainly try to keep writing. :3

I wrote this one-shot for a friend at Christmas and I thought I'd finally upload it. It takes place after the end of _Hannibal_.

* * *

"Clarice."

The slightly metallic voice drifted up the stairs as she was wriggling into one of the numerous little black dresses that hung in the enormous walk-in closet—most still had tags. Sweatpants and fuzzy purple socks lay abandoned on the rug a few feet away. She let out an exasperated sigh and reached around, tugging at the zipper.

"Always in a hurry," she muttered under her breath. "Impatient fucking—just a minute!" This she added more loudly when her name echoed through the house again.

It took every ounce of her hand-eye coordination and honed balance skills to pull on one strappy kitten heel, also black, at a time, trying to buckle them each without falling over. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth slightly as she worked; she would give an onlooker the impression of a little girl trying on her mother's shoes more than a grown woman getting ready for a night on the town. Sometimes being a "countess" was a real pain in the ass. Playing dress-up was fun and all, but on a deadline—

"Having trouble, my dear?"

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, dressed as impeccably as ever, appeared in the bedroom doorway. He leaned against it and watched her with a slightly bemused and thoroughly infuriating smile. Fuck him, she thought (oh, she would; he looked pretty damn good in that tux).

"We're not going to be late, Doc. Hold your horses," she snapped, finally managing the second tiny buckle.

"Ah, Clarice," he chuckled, "your candor never ceases to charm me."

She glared at him and reached for a slim box lying on the vanity amongst scattered cases of make-up. Inside lay a magnificent silver necklace set with more than two dozen emeralds. The green stones sparkled as they caught the late-afternoon sunlight.

Suddenly, he slipped the gems from her fingers, and she practically could hear the smirk in his voice as he said: "Allow me." She had never even heard him move. Fucker.

But his skin was warm against hers as he clasped the necklace. He rested his palms lightly on her shoulders for a moment. Then he spun her gently around, stepping back to examine her at arm's length. It was all she could do not to fold her arms across her chest and glare at him still more fiercely…not that she minded the way he was dragging his eyes over her figure, or the appreciative little smile he wore.

"Well? Do I pass inspection, Dr. Lecter?" she asked. He had been the one in a hurry two minutes ago.

His eyes darted momentarily to her abandoned grey sweatpants, then back to her black-clad figure. He nodded. Seeing her chance, she leaned up, but instead of his lips, she found herself kissing the tips of his fingers. He clucked his tongue gently.

"You will not convince me to overlook our dinner reservations again this week—but your effort is, as always, commendable."

He ran them very lightly down over her cheek- and jawbones, then against the smooth skin of her neck, and smiled once more. "But there will always be time for you to seduce me later."

Then he tucked her hand into his elbow.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna hold you to that promise," she warned.

As they strolled out of the room and down the wide staircase, however, she moved a little closer to him. They paused only to allow him to drape a wrap around her slim shoulders. But when they reached the drive, she was too quick for him: she stole a lightning-fast kiss and fished the keys out of his coat pocket. Grinning triumphantly, she danced out of his reach in the direction of her beloved Mustang.

"How am I supposed to seduce you if I don't take you to dinner first, Doc?" she called.

He smiled, shook his head, and followed her.

"Ah, Clarice…"

_Remember to leave a review!_


End file.
